FIFTEEN DAYS AFTER
The mid-June morning sun was burning the sequins of dew off the grass as Cassie Dewell merged into traffic on the interstate toward Butte. She wore her best dark suit and polished red cowboy boots and she was prepared to testify at the preliminary hearing for Matthew Annan.
As usual with prosecutors, Cassie thought, the local DA in Butte had overcharged Annan in the hope that at least a few of the counts would stick. The charges included multiple counts of wire fraud, “fraudulent conveyance” in regard to the purchase of property with stolen cash, “instrument made with intent to defraud in the transfer of real property,” and other obscure statutes Cassie had never heard of.
Basically, the local DA was on a mission on behalf of the city fathers of Butte to exact revenge on Annan for buying one of the most iconic mansions in the city and moving it to Anaconda and leaving a gaping hole in Copper King Row. It was Butte sticking it to Anaconda one last time, she thought.
Extradition requests for Annan had come from the states of Illinois, New York, California, and Florida on behalf of RuthAnne Sommers, Monica Weatherby, Brooke Alexander, and Daney Tanner. All four victims were scheduled to fly into Montana and testify at the trial as well. Cassie looked forward to meeting them although she wasn’t really sure she’d like them personally. Or they, her.
That’s when her phone chirped and the screen on the dash said she’d received a text message via Bluetooth. She pressed “Hear it,” but there was no audio.
Cassie eased to the shoulder and retrieved her phone.
There was no text message, but there was a photo.
Kyle was smeared with mud and grime but he was grinning almost manically. He was in a dense pine forest with sun-dappled boughs behind him. In his hands he hefted a small open metal chest discolored by weather. Inside, gold coins gleamed in the early morning sun.
Cassie thumped the dashboard with the heel of her hand and cried, “Yes!”